


Two Days Ago

by antediluvianevil



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6481729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antediluvianevil/pseuds/antediluvianevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas regrets his decision to end the relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Writing angst isn't normally my thing. I hope it came out all right.

He dreaded ascending the final flight of stairs.  Two days ago he'd taken away her vallaslin.  Two days ago he'd almost told her all he is, and hoped she would have accepted him.  Two days ago he'd torn her heart from her chest and walked away with it.

He silently entered her room.  The Inquisitor sat at her desk, writing, hiding her face behind messy unkempt hair.  Crimson hair that two days ago he could have buried himself in, and he would have whispered to her forgotten Elvish words only he could understand.  Two days ago he could have walked up to her and kissed all her pain away.

He walked past the desk and to the dresser they had shared.  He owned little clothing, but every so often she'd return with a new tunic or trousers for him.  Always simple, always comfortable.  He slowly took every item out of the dresser that was his and turned to leave.  Two days ago they shared that room.  He would read and sleep while she would write and sing sweet songs.  And what sweet songs they were--

"Solas."

He stopped his departure and turned back to her.  "Yes, Inquisitor?"  The word stung in his mouth.

Two days ago he could have called her his heart, for that's what she was.  That's what she was, and always will be.  He looked at her desk as he waited.  Four empty bottles of wine.  Her voice was slightly slurred.  She looked up to him and revealed her tear stained cheeks.  She never cried.  Her suffering was always silent.

"I'm sorry."  She whispered and resumed her writing, waiting for him to leave. 

He stopped breathing.  He knew why she was apologizing.  She blamed herself for his selfishness, for his mistakes, for his decision.  She always blamed herself.  She detested herself.  She despised the Inquisition.  Her companions were the only thing that kept her sane.  He wanted to help her, but any affection he showed her would have just deepened the wound further.

"Do not blame yourself.  It was my mistake.  I should not have encouraged--"

"Mistake.  That's what our relationship was?"  There was a smile on her face for a moment, but her voice cracked and she began weeping.

He turned and left, quickly climbing down the stairs and shutting the door.  He leaned against the wood and shut his eyes.  Two days ago he could have taken her in his arms and lead her through the Fade, showing her wonders, smiling as she giggled at playful wisps.  Two days ago he could have kissed her tenderly and professed his love until she returned hers in kind.  And, oh, how she always returned it.

Two days ago he could have told her the truth and she might have loved him still, for that's what her spirit was made of.  Love, joy, hope.

He knew two days ago he would not be crying, because he would still have her in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She needs another drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I never wrote anything from my Inquisitor's POV, or wrote about her experiences. I wanted to fix that.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting.

It was her fault.

She wept at her desk for several minutes before she stood up. She tried to keep herself busy with work constantly for the last two days, but she was too inebriated now, and her handwriting looked like a chicken attempted to hold a quill. _But I could always use more._

She didn't bother to change out of her nightgown because it was modest enough, so she started for the stairwell out of her room when she heard someone knock on the door. Only one person knocked like that. She hopped down the steps and swung the door open.

“Varric.”

“Atisha.”

“No nicknames today?” she smiled and walked into the hall, shutting the door behind her. “What's up?”

“I should be the one asking _you_ that, Sunshine.” She hummed in response and started walking down the steps to the main hall, and Varric ran to keep up with her. “Where are you going?”

“The cellar. I think Bull has a Qunari drink stored there.” She tripped on a step and grabbed the handrail before her face met the wood. “He won't mind if I take it.”

“I'll mind. Your _brother_ will.”

“Well lucky for me, he's asleep, so you're the only one here,” she mumbled and continued walking down the steps at a slower pace. “Leave me alone.”

_Please_.

“No.”

_Damn dwarf._

“Sunshine, we met in 9:27. You and I went through a lot of shit together before you vanished three years later.”

“And?” She stopped and turned to him.

“Talk to me. I have never seen you so...” She turned around and continued walking. “I ran into Solas on my way up here.”

“Shut up.”

“He was crying.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because when your clan died you intentionally gave yourself alcohol poisoning, and the only reason you didn't _die_ because Solas had the guts to break down your door.” He sighed. “I want you to _talk_ to me. Bull. Your brother. Anyone.”

“It wasn't intentional.”

“We both know that's a lie.”

“You've known me too long.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Good.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and she walked out to the main hall. It was late enough that only guards and a few servants cleaning were the only ones in the hall. When she reached the stairwell to the basement Varric grabbed her arm.

“Let me go, Varric.”

“I know you two were--”

“You know **nothing** , Varric,” she yelled and turned around, hitting his arm away from her. “For years I lived alone, shunned by my clan, and only because of my brother did they let me travel with them. For years I drank myself each night into a stupor to forget about the fact that I lost my son. And then the Conclave happened, and I became Inquisitor. And then, for the first time in nearly two decades I felt like I _mattered_ , and I believed I actually had a _future_ with a person I loved. _Love_.

“But I was wrong. As I always am. I am nothing but the Inquisitor. When Corypheus is dead, I'll go back to being a useless _**rabbit**_.”

Varric stared at her. She never raved like that. She never let anyone know how she felt. But Solas changed that. He made her remember that there was such a thing as happiness. He said he loved her. He called her his heart. And now he was gone, and it was her fault. Just like it was her fault her son was taken. Just like how it was her fault her clan died.

She turned around and ran down the steps, and Varric didn't follow her. She reached the cellar and grabbed a bottle with a Qunlat label. Bull might fuss at her for taking it, but she would just find him something strong and dwarven to make him happy. She left the cellar and went back to the main hall.

She saw light coming from the rotunda. Solas was still up. She looked down to the bottle in her hand. She was drunk, but she wasn't stupid. She needed to talk to him before she destroyed herself. Again.

She slowly approached the rotunda. Varric was sitting at his table with his feet up towards the fire. He looked at her as she walked by before he went back to staring at the fireplace. She made a mental note to apologize to him.

She walked into the rotunda where Solas was staring at the last part of the wall not covered by his fresco. She knew he heard her; she was making no attempt at being quiet with her steps. She walked up to his back and cleared her throat, and only then did Solas acknowledge her presence. He turned his head to the side only slightly.

“Solas.”

“Inquisitor.”

She inhaled. “We need to talk about what happened.”

He turned around to face her. He looked exhausted. “I do not think that would be... appropriate at this time.”

“I just thought we should...” she whispered.

“We both have more pressing matters to attend to. Harden your heart to a cutting edge, and put that pain to use against Corypheus.”

“I just...” she said and clutched her gown. “I just want to know why. What I did wrong, or... _anything_.”

“The answer to your question would only lead to more questions, causing an emotional entanglement that would benefit neither of us, nor the Inquisition.” His posture relaxed and he continued. “Do not blame yourself. It was my fault. It was irresponsible, selfish, foolish of me. Please, let that be enough. Please.”

“After-- after we beat Corypheus. Will you tell me why once we've won?”

He looked to his feet. “Once we have defeated our adversary, I promise, everything will be made clear. But for now, we must focus on what truly matters.”

_Why did I bother?_

She clutched the bottle in her hand and turned to walk out. She stopped at the archway and turned to look at Solas. She smiled, and couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

“You mattered.”

She walked out.

_You mattered more than anything._


End file.
